


Best Laid Plans

by unnaturalredhead



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drunk Will is sassy af, Hannibal is a blushing mess, M/M, set sometime in season one, what a thirsty little cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnaturalredhead/pseuds/unnaturalredhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal "forgets" his coat at Will's after dogsitting, and when he returns to fetch it, finds something unexpected.</p>
<p>--x--</p>
<p>"In proving foresight may be vain,<br/>the best laid plans of mice and men,<br/>often go askew."<br/>- Robert Burns</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

The plan had been simple enough: he would leave his coat on Will’s chair. Hannibal would call it a simple mistake. After all, people forget things at each others’ houses all the time. He would have to go back and get it before the upcoming storm hit, and if his timing was right, he would have an excuse to stay until the storm passed.

The prospect of the ideal series of events had blinded Hannibal to the rest of the possibilities, but on the drive back to Baltimore, Hannibal had nothing but time to consider the potential outcomes. There was the chance, as Hannibal hoped, that he’d get to spend the night curled up in Will’s settee, the one that had been named Hannibal’s for when he dog sat, draped in a sheet to keep the dog hair at bay. Ideally, Hannibal would make Will coffee and breakfast in the morning, and they would enjoy the canceled day of work.

There was the potential that the storm would behave unpredictably, as winter storms so often do, and Hannibal would accidentally find himself ahead of schedule. Will would give Hannibal his coat, and wish him a safe drive home, quipping something about how lucky Hannibal was that he beat the blizzard, unaware of Hannibal’s intention to do the opposite. Hannibal would grumble about the time wasted driving, but would inevitably admit that the ten extra minutes of idle conversation was worth it all anyway.

The nagging thought in Hannibal’s mind, though, was the potential that Will would see the ruse immediately. Hannibal never forgot anything, and would be especially careful not to forget his coat before a storm. Will would notice that the coat was laid carefully over the back of the chair to prevent the attraction to dog hair. Will would also notice it was new, still crisp, and unlike the rest of Hannibal’s wardrobe, something rugged that Will might buy if he had the money to spare. Will would suspect ulterior motives if Hannibal returned to fetch it, considering that he had his old coat to use in the meantime.

The third scenario was daunting enough to nag at Hannibal the entire drive home, throughout dinner, and well past his bedtime. Will was surely asleep, having likely fallen into bed as soon as he arrived home from his latest case. He wouldn’t have noticed the coat yet. Hannibal looked at the time, and noted that if he left soon thereafter, he would be able to retrieve his coat while Will slept, none the wiser. He begrudgingly redressed, chastising himself for not thinking more clearly, and headed back to Wolf Trap.

Hannibal walked up the concrete pathway to Will’s front door, sausages in hand to quiet Will’s dogs before they thought to bark. The moonlight gently illuminated the snowy ground to a soft grayscale, ice glittering in the trees. Hannibal noted the silence within the cold, reminded briefly of a frame of a memory from his childhood. He slowly stepped up to Will’s porch, giving a gentle _shh_ to the dogs just inside. They were quiet, but the eager huffing of seven dogs was loud in the crispness of the early morning. Hannibal retrieved the spare key from its hiding spot above the door, and let himself in. He gave the dogs their toll, pleased when they didn’t yip out of excitement.

Hannibal gave himself premature congratulations for a job well done. He’d be out the door with the same swift quiet, no trace of him ever being there. Will would wake up in the morning and continue his day, without knowledge of Hannibal’s midnight break in. He grabbed his coat, still smiling at himself, and turned to leave, but something caught his attention, something different in his periphery.

It was a strange thing, for Hannibal, to be caught off guard. He prided himself on accounting for all possible outcomes, but he hadn’t planned on seeing Will lying face down in bed, empty bottle of whiskey in hand, completely nude.

Hannibal couldn’t stop the noise that crept out of his chest, a sharp inhale of surprise mixed with the guttural grunt of attraction. One of the dogs, a shepherd, whined in response, prompting the rest of the pack to join in with a chorus of growls, whines, and barks.

Will roused from his drunken slumber, turning to scold the dogs, but instead found himself looking at his psychiatrist, sausage in one hand and a coat in the other. He blinked a few times to make sure he was awake, and then squinted to see if it was a hallucination.

“Hannibal?” Will asked, his speech thick with sleep and inebriation.

Hannibal swallowed and tried to maintain his cool facade, “Hello, Will.”

“What are you doing here?” Will said, rubbing his free palm heavily across his face, attempting to sober himself enough to understand the unexpected situation.

Hannibal sighed, but it made no difference, his voice cracking as he answered, “Simply retrieving my coat.”

Will turned to look at the clock. “At three in the morning.” He propped himself up on his elbows, unaware the sheet had slid away from him in the night.

“Three eighteen, to be exact,” Hannibal replied, stating the time as if it weren’t an important part of the problem at hand.

Will sighed, long and hard, and he clenched his jaw for a second. “ _Why_ are you collecting your coat at three eighteen in the morning?”

Hannibal had been fighting not to look at Will’s naked form sprawled across the bed, but he feared whatever he did under the circumstances would be obvious. He closed his eyes a moment to lessen the temptation, and said, “I don’t have an explanation for my current actions that won’t make the situation any less awkward.” He tilted his head slightly, as if gesturing for Will to notice his state of undress.

Will laughed, burying his head in his hands. Had he been sober, he would have reacted much differently, but the whiskey swam in his head, and he couldn’t deny the humor in the situation. Here he was, sleeping off more than a few too many shots of liquor, too drunk to dress himself before falling into bed and polishing off the bottle. He had let restraint fall to the wayside for one night of sleep without nightmares, encouraging a hangover that his worst hallucinations couldn’t fight through. And here was his psychiatrist, who, for some reason, needed his coat so badly that he would break into Will’s house at three eighteen in the morning to get it. The entire thing was too ridiculous to feel real, and Will couldn’t help but laugh.

“See something you like?” Will asked, slurring his words as they rolled out between laughs.

Hannibal appeared cool, only allowing a frown to change his otherwise still face, but he was mortified. He was thankful he had the cover of darkness to hide the blush rising furiously over his cheeks. Here he was, breaking into a patient’s home at three eighteen in the morning to retrieve a coat, left there as an excuse to spend more time with Will outside of work and appointments. And here was Will, steeped in cheap whiskey, trying to forget the horrors of the case, laughing in Hannibal’s face. Apparently, there was a fourth scenario that Hannibal hadn’t considered, and he had no idea how to act.

“We can talk about this at our next appointment,” Hannibal stated, starting for the door again.

“Oh no, we can talk about this now,” Will countered, still chuckling. He finally pulled the sheet up to cover himself, and he sat up to allow Hannibal a place to sit.

“Will, I really must insist -”

“I don’t really think you’re in the position to insist anything, considering the nature of this encounter. Sit, please,” Will said, gesturing to the empty spot next to him. He was surprisingly eloquent, despite his thick tongue and swirling head.

Hannibal couldn’t see a way out of it, no matter how hard he tried, and he sighed at his defeat. He tossed the sausage down to the dogs, returned his coat to the back of the settee, and joined Will on the bed. He only barely tried to conceal his embarrassment, but couldn’t bring himself to look at Will.

“Would you care to explain this to me?” Will asked, waving his hands through the air at the situation at hand.

Hannibal sighed, “As I said, I came to retrieve my coat.” He shook his head at the half truth, and added, “I left it here, though not accidentally. I thought it would be excuse enough to spend an afternoon outside of the boundaries of our professional relationship.” He grimaced at yet another half truth, but refrained from telling Will he hoped he’d spend the night.

“I guessed that much. It smelled new,” Will replied. “Found it while I was stumbling around. Seems to me that you didn’t think that one through.”

Hannibal groaned, shame weighing on his posture. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t notice.”

“You could just ask,” Will said.

“Ask?” Hannibal said, shaken by Will’s disjointed response.

“If you want to spend time with me, you can just ask.” Will smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “God forbid we become friendly.”

Hannibal had been blind to that option, and he scolded himself for it. Will was different than most the people Hannibal dealt with. He automatically tuned to whoever, or whatever, he was with, and secrets revealed themselves to Will easily. Hannibal hadn’t considered simply asking Will for company. Fabricating situations was something Hannibal was good at, but Will could deconstruct them with the swing of a pendulum. Of course it would be easier to just ask Will.

“It seemed inappropriate to ask a patient to extend the relationship into friendship. It tends to impede therapy to form that sort of bond with one’s psychiatrist,” Hannibal said, hoping that would garner sympathy.

“I thought we were simply having conversations,” Will replied. Hannibal frowned. His best laid plans had all fallen apart, and his excuses were just as poorly constructed. Hannibal sneered at his loss of control. “You don’t always need words for me to be able to know what you’re saying. I can feel your energy change when you close the door behind me for our appointments.”

Hannibal’s lip curled. He wondered if Will was purposefully rubbing salt in the wound, Hannibal’s ego chapped from the harsh realization that he wasn’t as collected as he thought. “I enjoy your company, Will.”

“Evidently,” Will replied, the word sharp in Hannibal’s ears.

Hannibal shifted on the edge of the mattress, eager to end his embarrassment and return to Baltimore, no doubt chastising himself the entire drive home.

“You got what you wanted then. You wanted my company, and here you are. You can stay, if you’d like,” Will said, as if it were a simple offer, but it was also a challenge. Will could feel Hannibal’s discomfort and embarrassment. It hung on him like humid air, beading up on his skin, forming droplets of hurt, and shame, and annoyance.

Hannibal could leave, but Will would win, knowing that every appointment buzzed with Hannibal’s eager energy and residual memories of this event. Hannibal could stay, but Will would win, allowing Hannibal the comfort of fulfilling his wishes. Will had all the power over Hannibal.

At the very least, Hannibal could pretend that staying was more convenient, and a courtesy to Will, who would inevitably need, or at least appreciate, a helping hand in the morning when his hangover rattled in his brain.

“It’s a long drive back to Baltimore. One I can make in the morning,” Hannibal said, standing from the mattress. He walked to the kitchen, filling a glass with water for Will. He noticed Will tipping the empty bottle of whiskey up over his mouth, hoping for a few last drops. “Bad case?” he asked from the kitchen.

“It’s getting harder to look,” Will answered, “And it’s getting harder to let go.”

Hannibal returned and handed the glass to Will, who smiled with bleary appreciation. He finished it off, only stopping to breathe, and handed the glass back. Hannibal let his fingers graze Will’s as he reached for the glass. When Hannibal turned for the kitchen again, Will let the sheet slide from his hips, and rummaged through the dresser for clothes.

Hannibal, once again, found himself staring at Will’s naked form, this time in front of the dresser, slipping on a pair of briefs. He let his eyes linger on the muscles coiled tight beneath Will’s skin and the dimples of his back, peeking out from the waistband of his underwear. Hannibal couldn’t help but nibble his bottom lip at the sight. He recomposed himself as he returned to the main room, and feigned embarrassment that Will was still mostly undressed.

Will pulled out a gray shirt and plaid, flannel pants, and extended them towards Hannibal. “Wouldn’t want to wrinkle your slacks,” he offered, a treacherous twinkle still in his eyes when he glanced at Hannibal’s coat hanging on the back of the settee. Whiskey gave him a sort of flirtatious courage, sharp wit that Hannibal could learn to enjoy if it weren’t at his expense. Hannibal considered letting Will have a few too many at dinner while Jack or Alana dined alongside, just to see how it would go.

“If you don’t want your things to be furry when you get up, I’d suggest putting them under the sheet,” Will said, motioning back to the chair. Hannibal’s lip quirked, and he tilted his head, the question in his mind betrayed by his body. “Just stay on your side of the bed, alright?” Will finished.

The blush returned to Hannibal’s cheeks, hotter than before. He had only wanted to spend a night in Will’s company, but Will offered half of his bed. Maybe leaving his coat at Will’s was the best choice Hannibal could have made.

Hannibal changed in the bathroom. Will’s shirt was snug over his chest, and the pants were just a couple inches too short. Hannibal would have normally frowned at wearing ill-fitting clothes, no doubt from a store that also provided groceries and oil changes, but the fact that they were Will’s made it bearable. He decided to complain anyway, because it seemed like something he would do.

“I really must get you nicer bedclothes, Will,” Hannibal said as he returned to the main room, “For the upcoming holidays, maybe.” He folded his own clothes, toed off his shoes, and stacked it all neatly under the sheet draped over his chair.

“Do you normally get your patients Christmas presents, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked, a teasing lilt still riding on his voice.

“I thought we were simply having conversations,” Hannibal countered, allowing himself to tease back.

Will settled back into bed, allowing enough room for Hannibal to join him. Hannibal hoped Will was still drunk enough that he would fall asleep before noticing the thrumming energy radiating from Hannibal. Will grunted something reminiscent of _good night_ before his breathing slowed and steadied. Hannibal willed himself to do the same, and in just a few minutes, sleep took him.

Hannibal stayed on his side of the bed.

When Hannibal awoke, searing light coming through the uncurtained window, he found Will had not, arm thrown over Hannibal’s stomach, messy curls resting on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal smiled, and considered leaving his coat at Will’s more often.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt from the optprompts tumblr: Person A forgets something at Person B's house, and when they return to get it, accidentally find Person B naked.


End file.
